With a Memory Like Mine
by LadyLoyal
Summary: Riddick/Jack Kyra  AU  Set after Pitch Black but COR has not happened. Kyra is haunted by Riddick's memory and engages in a secret lifestyle to block her pain out. When Riddick crosses her path again - can they overcome the past?


When I think back now to the way I imitated him on T2; shaving my head, wearing cheap goggles… it embarrasses me. When I think of the year we spent together after escaping that living nightmare- Riddick, Iman, & me…It's bittersweet. It was the happiest I had ever been, yet it brings sharp pains to my heart to just remember it. I learned so much in that year; how to fight, how to steal, how to pray, how to repent. The day he left hurts the worst. Mostly because I had been so stupid to think we would all always be together. How naïve I could have been; believing the stop to New Mecca was just for supplies. How they sat down together to talk to me, like a regular family Mom & Dad, to tell me Riddick was leaving but I was staying. Tears threaten to well in my eyes when I think of how I cried, begged, pleaded for him to take me with him. How I wrapped my arms around his waist and wouldn't let go. He kissed the top of my fuzzy head once, then peeled my arms from him and walked away, never turning back while I sat crumpled on my knees behind him. I'd hate him if it didn't hurt so much. The last indignation he could throw me was that I'd never forget him. I remember every moment in detail; every happiness, ever lesson, every laugh, every pain, every tear. I tried to fill my time with books, religion, alcohol for awhile, to try to forget. I changed my name to not have to bear the memory of hearing him say it, but without fail some point in the day, every day, even if just for a moment, he'll creep back into my thoughts. Time doesn't heal all wounds; it just hides them away inside you, taunting you that they could reopen at any moment.

The only sanctuary I've found is in the vilest of rituals. Iman would be disgusted if he knew. When the pain becomes too much to bear, I visit a dark, unmarked building in the business district. They offer many services here but I've only come for one. There, in a concrete room, I will strip to my undergarments and show my inner demons to a man named, Alams. I will detail my hurt and anger to him and in return he will place a metal rod behind my neck and bind my outstretched arms to the ends. Standing on my knees, my ankles will be shackled to the floor and he will graciously take a short, black leather whip to my skin. Alams is a professional and no sex takes place, but he takes pride in his work and has learned my needs and how far to push me. When he is done and my skin is whelped and red, he will stand in front of me. Sometimes when he knows my mind and heart still need more than my body can handle, he will slap directly in the face. Hard enough it pushes me sideways to the ground. When I can breathe rightly again, I will sit back on my knees and thank him for it. If I need it, he will slap me again. As he unshackles me he will tell me my service was beautiful and remind me there is no shame in this act but I know better. The only scars I walk away with are the ones I brought in the door with me but the real sting I'll feel for the next week when my clothes rub against the marks makes dealing with them more bearable.

"Kyra….Krya… Ky!" I'm snapped from my thoughts by Alala shaking my arm. I blink my eyes and look at her momentarily disorientated. "Where were you just now?" she laughs a little, "class is over". I glance around the now empty room. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking about the docking test next week" I lie. I had daydreamed of flying since I was left in New Mecca. At first so I could find Riddick, now so I could outrun his memory. "You need a break. You're coming out with me tonight", Alala states. "No, no, no. Last time I went out with you I came home at 4 am piss drunk and missing my shirt. Iman was on his knees for a week praying for my soul." We both laugh at the memory. "Come on, Ky. It'll be fun. Remember, all work & no play makes Jack a dull boy." I can't help but snort at the irony of her comment. "I'll let you borrow that little bronze bandage dress of mine." She sweetly pleads in a sing-song voice. "That's low" I fake scowl at her but ultimately give in. My intuition tells me something is off balance but I sweep my premonitions away, tossing them up to my own lingering bitterness. Maybe I do need a break tonight after all.


End file.
